


Last Resort

by Musketball1



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), d'Artagnan Angst, d'Artagnan Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musketball1/pseuds/Musketball1
Summary: A solo mission for D'Artagnan may be one from which he never returns.
Comments: 44
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

“Those two appear to be inseparable these days,” Aramis mentioned to Athos and Porthos, looking over at D’Artagnan and Julien sitting and talking animatedly at the Garrison table. As is typical with young men of their age, every life experience was worthy of passionate scrutiny to be shared with a friend; and Julien was enraptured with the missions that D’Artagnan had already shared with the three Inseparables during his short but already storied time spent with the legendary men.

Julien was a new recruit that had only joined the ranks of the Garrison within the last few weeks. Perhaps due to their age similarity, D’Artagnan took to him immediately.

“I’ll say this for Julien,” Porthos commented. ‘’E knows ‘is way round a deck ‘a’ cards. Saw ‘im at the Wren the other night. Kid knows what ‘e’s doin.”

“So, he should be _your_ new best friend, is what you’re saying,” Aramis teased.

It was a hard day’s night.

Porthos and Aramis knew the drill. Athos, apropos of nothing had mentioned that it was his dead younger brother Thomas’ birthday that morning. The pronouncement coming out of nowhere was Athos’ way of telling them _, it’s the reason for anything stupid or hurtful- to myself and others- I may do or say today._

When the day progressed into the evening, a delicate tightrope of careful vigilance and benign but watchful distance was the order of the day.

The space they needed to afford Athos was more to allow Athos’ indulgence of the lesser angels of his nature. He was allowed by his two brothers to wallow in his grief, in the festering belief that he alone was responsible for Thomas’ demise.

This wasn’t always the case- since Athos had just recently come clean to Porthos and Aramis about his wife and younger brother (D’Artagnan standing there, already privy to all of it, of course, watching the stunned faces of his two brothers as they absorbed the information), they had tried to assuage Athos of his guilt. If Athos was sober, he seemed a bit amenable to the suggestion; however, if drunk, his tendency was to bitterly lash out, and to say things as mean-spirited as he could muster, the subtext being to push them away and just _leave him alone._ Aramis and Porthos had learned the hard way to give him a wide berth at such times; luckily so far, D’Artagnan had been absent during such episodes.

It was a testament to the strength of Aramis’ and Porthos’ friendship that any verbal barbs thrust at them from an inebriated, hurting Athos were forgotten and never brought up again. Athos, for his part, typically forgot them in any case; however, were his brothers not the forgiving type, they might feel they were within their rights to ask for an apology. Like the expert swordsman that he was, Athos seemed to know exactly where to strike verbally, in order to exact the most pain. With Aramis, the vulgar comments usually involved denigrating his religion, or not so innocently asking where Adele went off to. Porthos was subject to comments about his upbringing that readers of this tale will be spared, in the interests of decency and decorum. 

Compounding Athos’ recent wide variance of emotions was his residual feelings for Ninon de Larroque; it was only the past week that the entire affair with this complex, beautiful woman unfolded, and Athos was still a bit out of sorts based on his feelings for her. Whatever stirrings Ninon managed to stir in him, couldn’t help but remind him of- _her._

Milady‘s treacherous involvement in the whole Ninon affair still had Athos seething. So many dark thoughts swirling in his mind, feeding his anger and frustration, each one fighting for purchase- the frustration in no one believing his rants that Milady can’t be trusted, how close her evil machinations made her almost end Ninon, Thomas’ death… 

Yes, inexorably married to thoughts of Milady was the pain of losing his younger brother. Everyone’s favorite. And perhaps it was hubris on his part to believe he could have prevented what his wife did to dear beloved Thomas, but God help him, he couldn’t help it. 

Everyone’s favorite. The light of his and everyone else’s life. Too good for this world.

A sentiment easily equated to the recent new firebrand had literally erupted into the lives of Athos and his brothers. 

He would move heaven and earth to prevent anything to happen to D’Artagnan. Yet the boy made it difficult to protect, blazing forward into danger with an ardent disregard for his own well-being. God help him if Athos’ world and the boy’s collided. He would not survive the loss of yet another young brother.

So when Porthos, Aramis, and Athos found themselves at the Wren that night, and Athos took his own table alone, his two brothers sat by themselves, looking no more than two jailed convicts awaiting their sentencing. Still, with a little luck, they might just get themselves and their hurting brother through this evening unscathed. 

Porthos spotted Julien at a nearby table, engaged again in a card game. Porthos noticed Julien’s intense gaze and recognized it as- he could not at the moment put a finger on it.

D’Artagnan had snagged early night watch duty, a fact that both Porthos and Aramis had silently thanked God for. Speaking of God, God bless that boy- though not yet a Musketeer, his willingness as a recruit to perform any task, however menial, was a godsend to all of them.

What they couldn’t have counted on was Athos unwillingness to leave.

Much later, any gentle suggestion from Porthos or Aramis that they call it a night was met with derision, or a growl.

“Well, if we were to count our blessings, at least the crowd has thinned a bit,” Aramis said, looking for the silver lining.

“Yeah- less folks for Athos to look sideways at, or start up with,” Porthos said. 

But perhaps their luck was running out. D’Artagnan entered the tavern. 

The young man spotted Porthos and Aramis and shot them a bright smile. He walked over and while D’artagnan was greeting them, Athos glanced over and said, loud enough for them to hear, “ _him_ again.” 

The three other men glanced at Athos briefly, but Porthos ignored him and made a comment to D’artagnan about their most recent mission, to which D’artagnan began to reply. Again, Athos interrupted D’artagnan, only louder this time. “Why are you here?”

Silence from Porthos, Aramis, and D’artagnan. “Pardon?” D’artagnan asked, still smiling and not comprehending. 

Athos laid down his drink. “It was a simple question. Why are you here?” 

“Athos, I don’t understand-“ 

“Oh, then you’re a simpleton as well? Let me re-phrase the question,” Athos asked, now standing up. “Who invited you?” 

“Athos…,” Aramis said, lowering his head. 

D’artagnan now looked confused and uncomfortable. “I- I suppose-“ 

“I- I- I- I-“, Athos mimicked the boy’s stutter, mockingly. “ _No_ one did, boy. You’re just a hanger-on, and _these_ two (pointing to Aramis and Porthos) are too polite to tell you what I will. You’re _not_ a Musketeer, never will be, so stop embarrassing yourself by pretending to be one by coming ‘round when you’re not wanted. A pathetic pretender is all you are.” 

D’artagnan was in shock. “You don’t mean that,” he managed to croak out, throwing out an angry glance at his mentor. 

Athos continued. “Just leave now, and when we wish to see you again, you’ll know.” 

Aramis said to D’artagnan: “D’Artagnan, perhaps it’s best you go now.” 

Porthos yelled, “Aramis!” 

D’artagnan, now shaking, regained enough composure to say in a cracked voice, “I- I best take my leave then.” 

Athos, continuing his mocking tone: “Why don’t you take your _leave_ , then?” 

With that, D’artagnan almost ran out of the tavern. 

Porthos swung around to Aramis: “What was _that_ about? Tellin’ ‘im to leave??!” 

Aramis just waved his hand at Athos, who was sitting again. “He’s obviously in a state. So we should subject the boy to more of his torments?” 

Porthos got up. “Alright, this is over. Athos, c’m on. Now. And I know I have a thick neck, but still I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bite my ‘ead off like you did the pup.”

Remarkably, Athos did as he was told. Not a word was exchanged between the three of them as they managed to get Athos back to his rooms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission prep for D'Artagnan takes an unexpected turn.

The next day at the Garrison, it took some time for the three Inseparables to take any notice of D’Artagnan’s absence; after all, he might wish to make himself scarce in their presence after the events of the prior evening.

Athos’ recollection of last night was murky but any moments of clarity exposed a Comte in rare form, lashing out at his younger brother, who in his weakest (and most inebriated) moments he still felt the need to push away, in a pathetic attempt to protect him. From himself, from the dangers of Musketeering… 

Suddenly, Treville was calling for them. Once in his office, Treville looked irritated. The three brothers all picked up on it, and in typical fashion, all three quickly racked their brains to attempt to deduce what it is that _they_ may have done to be the source of their Captain’s obvious anger. 

“Gentlemen.” Treville paused, for a long moment saying nothing more- long enough for Porthos, Aramis, and Athos to shoot themselves a quick glance. Finally their Captain continued.

“I’m prefacing this by saying that as it is, I’m telling you more than I’m allowed, or should be. Suffice to say that D’Artagnan and Julien will be taking part in a covert mission for the Palace, starting this evening. That is all you are permitted to know.”

Athos suddenly believed he knew the source of his Captain’s ire: the King, and possibly the Cardinal. It was obvious to Athos that Treville was told what to do, and had little input into this scheme of the King’s, and, more probably, the Cardinal’s. 

“Is it dangerous?” Athos asked, despite knowing that he had just effectively been dismissed by Treville, but needing to know. A ‘covert’ mission would certainly entail something riskier than delivering a missive or escorting a royal from one place to another.

His concern for D’Artagnan’s safety was first and foremost in his mind.

And if it were dangerous, why on earth would a green recruit like Julien be involved? And was the decision to involve Julien Treville’s doing? It had to be, as neither the Cardinal nor certainly the King would even be aware of Julien’s existence. So why-

“I will say no more. Dismissed.”

Aramis risked one more question. “Of course, Captain; but could you let us know where D’Artagnan and Julien are now?”

Treville replied, “Due to their planned departure this evening, I advised them to eat and take some rest today, as…” Treville trailed off. He seemed determined to not partake of any further information.

“They have also been told under fear of serious reprisal not to breathe a word of their mission to anyone, so any attempts to query them as to its nature will no doubt come back to me, and they know it. So best not to go there with either of them. And I’m not going to say it again- _dismissed.”_

As the three reluctantly left the Captain’s office, Athos couldn’t help but admire Treville. He could have made it clear to his men that the mission’s germination began in the Palace, and that he was not in favor of it, not one bit- that much was clear just from the knit on his brow, the set of his posture- but Treville was a soldier, one of the best, and he knew that any overt admission that he objected would or could subvert the mission’s purpose, or- worse- cause these three men to question it, or, perhaps worst of all, given the importance of the task at hand, prevent it from moving forward. And that could not happen- this mission was clearly too important.

Had Athos been present, he would have been proud of D’Artagnan when Treville described the requirements of the mission to D’Artagnan- all aspects of it. D’Artagnan simply nodded and thanked the Captain for the opportunity. Julien was not present during the detailed mission discussion.

Treville, however, was especially loathe to have agreed on sanctioning the one critical element of the mission that the King and Cardinal insisted D’Artagnan adhere to, and given what was at stake Treville had to agree it was necessary.

All the more that it needed to be kept from these men. Because if they knew that it was a component of this mission-perhaps the most critical component- they would raise heaven and hell for D’Artagnan to not participate. Treville even suspected that Athos would confront the King personally and risk a treason charge if it meant D’Artagnan would be spared. 

Because this mission’s component was quite possibly a death sentence for D’Artagnan.

As it was, the three men found Julien and D’Artagnan at the Garrison table, supping on something that Serge had whipped up. If either was concerned about their upcoming mission, they hid it well, as D’Artagnan actually managed a smile when he saw them all approaching.

_Surely his smile isn’t for me,_ Athos thought. 

"Eatin’ before your mission tonight?” Porthos asked.

Julien and D’Artagnan shot each other a look of concern and hesitated.

“Relax, boys, Treville said nothing other than that. We’re not here to pry,” Aramis quickly added.

That did the trick, as both young men seemed to instantly relax a bit.

“We’re to eat and then take a rest before we begin,” was all D’Artagnan offered, smiling softly at Aramis.

After an uncomfortable pause, Athos simply added, “Well then, best of luck to you.”

"Thank you,” Julien responded. D’Artagnan didn’t look up from his plate. _Didn’t know you cared_ is the thought that he did not voice.

Later that evening, after D’Artagnan had taken his rest, the hour was at hand. He was set to depart. Since Treville knew that he would have business at the Palace with Porthos, Aramis and Athos in tow at the designated time of D’Artagnan and Julien’s departure, earlier the Captain had ensured all of the provisions the boys would need were all set. It wasn’t a considerable amount, as they needed to travel light, but the monies provided the boys would allow them to purchase goods, food and services, as needed, as they went.

D’Artagnan was raring to go. There was only one problem- where was Julien?

D’Artagnan spent a good quarter hour looking all around the Garrison. Nothing. He had asked every available person he could find if they had seen Julien. None knew where he was. This was not good- Treville had made it clear they were to meet back here and depart from the Garrison promptly at eight PM. It was now half past. 

Based on the ground they needed to cover, it was critical they leave on time; Treville had emphasized that much.

After another few minutes of frantic searching, D’Artagnan approached Serge.

“Serge,” D’Artagnan said, “I need to leave on an- errand and Julien was supposed to accompany me. If you see him within the next few minutes, please tell him to follow where he knows he should go and perhaps he can catch up. I’m off- I cannot wait any longer.”

Serge asked, “You and Julien have a mission? The two of you?”

D’Artagnan didn’t want to reveal much, so he simply replied, “Yes, but Treville never said it absolutely needed to be a mission for two. He also never said that the mission was forfeit if one of us didn’t show. All I know is that I need to go now.”

“Will you be able to accomplish it alone?” Serge asked innocently.

“I believe so, yes,” D’Artagnan replied, already shifting his horse towards the Garrison threshold, trying to feel as hopeful as he managed to sound. 

And with that, he was off. Alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover what Julien was up to.

As Treville needed to linger at the Palace longer than the Inseparables did, Porthos, Athos and Aramis found themselves back at the Garrison in the late evening. Weighing on their minds was D’Artagnan and Julien, who would have left a few hours earlier on their mystery mission.

Serge greeted them, fresh from the task of readying ingredients for tomorrow’s Garrison breakfast.

“You three happen to see the new kid Julien anywhere?” he asked them.

The three men shared knowing glances at each other. “Serge, he is with D’Artagnan. They simply had a small errand to run.” Athos didn’t want to reveal much, but that much information, according to Treville, was public domain.

“No, he is not. A few hours ago D’Artagnan was frantically looking all over for Julien- he was nowhere to be found. D’Artagnan spent about a half hour almost tearing up the Garrison looking for him.”

“Where is D’Artagnan now?” Aramis asked.

“He left. He said he needed to go and could not wait for Julien any longer.”

“He went _alone?”_ Athos asked furiously. 

“Yes,” Serge replied, as if to say, _I just said that._

Now all three men tried to hide their worried looks- calling attention in any way to the importance of this mission was something that Treville had drilled into them was to be avoided at any cost.

“Where the hell is this Julien?” Athos demanded.

Porthos’ face suddenly betrayed a mirthless smile. “Oh God- I think I may know.”

“Where, my brother?” Aramis asked.

“Believe me, if I’m right, Julien’s a dead man.”

Unfortunately for Julien, he was right where Porthos had led Athos and Aramis- at a table in the Wren, completely entranced by a card game he was involved in with a few other patrons. He seemed to have the lion’s share of the table’s winnings.

Shaking off their initial shock at the scene, Athos grabbed Julien to his feet and yelled “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with D’Artagnan?” 

Now it was Julien’s time to be shocked. “What are you- wait- what time is it??”

“Oh my God,” Aramis muttered aloud.

One of the other card players looked at Athos and said, “Look, monsieur, if it’s all the same to you, go scram and let me try to win some of my money back, if you don’t mind.” With that, he dismissed Athos, focusing back on the game he was certain was about to resume. 

Athos proceeded to grab the table from the lip and flung it so high that some of its contents almost hit the ceiling. Glasses, cards, food and money were strewn to all four corners of the Wren.

“Hey- what the-“ Suddenly all of the patrons sitting around the table were up on their feet, screaming and looking for a fight.

Porthos grabbed Julien from his shirt collar, and before anyone could do anything but watch, all three of them were in the alleyway with Julien, dragging him back to the Garrison.

“Wait- that’s my- my winnings-“ Julien argued, but a withering look from Porthos made him drop any further protestations.

Treville had returned from the Palace and his office’s candle glow was an indication that not only had he returned, but he was still awake and present in his office, so all three men made their way directly there, with a now very unwilling and frightened Julien.

Treville looked up from his desk when he saw Porthos, Athos, and Aramis; however when he caught a glance at Julien, he did a double take.

Jumping to his feet, Treville’s response was almost a mirror image of Athos’. “Julien. Why are you still here? Where is D’Artagnan?”

Julien opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Terror had rendered him mute. 

Athos jumped in. “Serge said he left after looking for Julien and was unsuccessful. However, it appears the evening wasn’t a complete loss, as we just found Julien doing very well for himself playing cards at the Wren. So there is that.”

“What?” Treville asked, incredulous.

Julien managed to choke out, “I- I was just finishing up at the Wren and-“

“Don’t lie to us, boy, don’t you dare lie to us,” Porthos interjected. “You were set for the evenin’. And it’s after _midnight_ _.”_

“I’ll depart immediately. I can catch up if I leave now.”

“You _can’t!_ You would need to-“ Treville caught himself. With emotions running high, he realized he was about to impart critical logistical details of the mission in front of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.

“Gentlemen, my thanks for retrieving Julien. Now if you don’t mind…” and Treville was extending his hand to the door, indicating the Inseparables leave him with Julien.

“Captain, in light of this- hiccup, perhaps we can be involved in some way to-“ Aramis offered.

But he was cut off by an irritated Treville. “No, Aramis. Not even close. The three of you leave, _now.”_

As Aramis and Porthos reluctantly began shifting towards the door, Athos stood still.

“Alright, Captain. Just know that you can trust us.” Athos, ever the diplomat, considered his words carefully; they conveyed a willingness to obey his Captain, but left Treville an opening to consider involving his most trusted Musketeers if need be.

It seemed to do the trick. Treville closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple in a feeble attempt to alleviate the massive headache pestering him at the moment. He sighed, and then said, “Give me a few minutes with Julien. I will then have Julien send for you when I am finished with him.”

And with that, the Inseparables left Treville’s office.

Suddenly, the tension in Treville’s office was almost more than Julien could bear.

After a long pause, Treville spoke.

“You had a few simple, easy tasks for this mission. The first was that once you and D’Artagnan approached Dax, separate and never be seen together. It was all on D’Artagnan to leave you messages in an agreed-upon location, for you to collect; messages to simply keep you posted that- things were progressing, and when to expect his next missive. If he missed a key deadline, provided in his previous message, your second task, if it came to that, was to leave him and get back to the Garrison to inform us that he- missed his deadline. And your last was to bring any messages left by him, back to my care.” 

What Treville wasn’t telling Julien was the most likely reason why D’Artagnan would miss a deadline. He knew that they would ultimately discover if Henri, D’Artagnan’s target, was dead, as word would ultimately reach the Palace; if that occurs, and D’Artagnan returns, well…but if D’Artagnan did not ever again walk through the Garrison gates, they would be left to assume the worst- that he was either killed, or he knew he was about to be captured and took his own life. 

“You are dismissed from being a recruit. Never come near the Garrison again.” Treville was not even looking at the young man.

After Julien slithered meekly out of his office, Treville’s only solace was having the wisdom of not telling Julien anything about the details of the mission other than his own tasks of receiving notes from D’Artagnan. He was confident that there would be no connecting the young man with the delicate task at hand. Richelieu and the King had no idea that Treville even planned on having anyone accompany D’Artagnan at all; it was his own idea, an indulgence of sorts- an act of defiance, a way, if he were being honest. Since this mission wasn’t his idea but the Cardinal’s, he would be damned if he wouldn’t at least be able to do something to give himself and his men the closure they would certainly need to be certain of D’Artagnan’s fate on what he knew the Cardinal hoped would be a suicide mission.

Now that wasn’t even possible. They would all need to saddle up for the possibility that they would never see D’Artagnan alive again. And all for the sake of cleaning up the Cardinal’s mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: More details on D'Artagnan's mission.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some background on D'Artagnan's mission regarding Mercenary Henri Odson, the Cardinal's sordid past with the man, and why D'Artagnan needs to tread lightly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning about some brief but graphic depictions of violence and torture in this chapter...

D’Artagnan would spend the next few weeks traveling south to approach the Gascony town of Dax, and it certainly had provided him enough time to ruminate on his mission.

Apparently the Cardinal’s long time relationship with mercenary Henri Odson had taken a bad turn. While Treville didn’t go into detail, it sounded as if Henri was a ruthless, calculated assassin who the Cardinal had hired several times in the past to do his bidding. Treville alluded to but did not come out and confirm it, but D’Artagnan was able to ascertain that the execution of several Spanish men, some dignitaries, some spies, all in the name of the preservation of France may or may not have been past byproducts of the relationship between Richelieu and Henri.

A violent disagreement on how the mercenary acted on his last ‘mission’ from Richelieu resulted in Henri threatening that unless the Cardinal pay him a huge sum, he would tell Spain all about the Cardinal’s past dealings, and declare his allegiance to Spain. While Richelieu initially called his bluff, insisting that Spain would execute him for his crimes against them, Richelieu paused when Henri convinced him that he could persuade Spain on his value by providing critical information about France, imparted to him by Richelieu himself. And by doing so, France would be implicated in the murders.

He may have pulled the trigger, he had sneered at Richelieu, but France pulled the strings. 

_“They will never believe you; you have no proof of my involvement, and even if King Philip could be convinced, absent proof even he would not risk declaring war,” Richelieu declared._

_"Ah, but the details of my assassinations, combined with your missive to me regarding one of our ‘partnerships’, would remove all doubt in Philip’s mind,” Henri spat back._

_“What missive?”_ _Richelieu_ _asked._

Henri reminded the Cardinal of the letter to which he referred. While Richelieu was careful to be cryptic enough to avoid being too specific in his letter of instruction to Henri (involving a recent assassination), in any case, he admitted to himself, it could be incriminating enough, and potentially calamitous for the combination of Henri’s declaration to Philip IV and the letter to be revealed. 

It was at that moment that Richelieu decided to have Treville send D’Artagnan to either steal the missive back, and in case of failure in that regard, D’Artagnan was to kill Henri Odson. However, as there could never be any tracing of D’Artagnan back to the Palace, the Gascon would be provided a vial of _acqua toffana_ \- a lethal does of arsenic and lead- for him to ingest upon pending capture, to remove any possibility of confession as a result of torture. 

For Henri Odson’s specialty was capture and especially torture; if he were to get the better hand on D’Artagnan, the boy knew what he needed to do…hopefully before it was too late.

Flaying was Henri’s preferred method of torture; as opposed to other popular methods, such as the Judas Cradle, the Catherine Wheel, or Pressing, it did not require any special implements, or assistance in prepping the victim. Once the subject was temporarily rendered insensible, it took little time in tying them up, in order to begin the unbearably painful process of peeling apart the skin, starting with the face, and progressing from there to each and every other part of the body.

In one such instance, the Cardinal was present when he witnessed Henri perform the torture on a captured Spanish spy. It was perhaps the only instance Richelieu could ever recall in his entire life that he found himself recoiling at the inhumanity of both the torture itself, as well as the man performing it.

The Cardinal would not soon forget the look of glee on Henri Odson’s face as he exacted the torture on the man. Richelieu could barely voice the questions he had for the spy, as his own stomach rebelled against him, having to endure looking at his bloody, ripped apart face, skin flapping down, the gasps of pain, the screams and pleas for mercy…

Richelieu got the information he needed from the spy. Easily. He was certain that even before Henri Odson was finished with him, the spy would have given up his own mother and father if requested. 

Richelieu had convinced the King that there was a possibility that Henri could drag a captured D’Artagnan to Spain, and under the duress of torture, have the boy confess to France’s part in the assassination of the Spanish dignitaries by Henri’s hands, and in doing so, he got Louis, terrified of the possibility of war breaking out between the two countries, to sign off on the suicide aspect of the mission. D’Artagnan, under no circumstances, should be allowed to get under the control of Henri Odson. 

Treville had argued with both the King and the Cardinal that D’Artagnan did not know enough details of Richelieu and Henri’s past dealings to reveal anything incriminating. But Richelieu shot back that his potential confession of attempting to kill Henri or obtain the document might be enough to ratify King Philip’s suspicion of France’s collusion with Henri, in order to disrupt relations between the two countries.

Richelieu has hoping for a win-win situation- silencing Henri for good, and getting rid of that nuisance D’Artagnan, who from all accounts (Milady first and foremost) the Inséparables seemed to have come to love as one of their own. However, the fact that D’Artagnan hailed from Gascony, the province containing the small town of Dax, where Henri lived, did add some credence to the Gascon being selected for this task- he would fit right in. 

If Richelieu had any reservations in exposing the young firebrand Gascon to the likes of Henri Odson, especially if he decided to decided to exact his own brand of torture on the boy, he convinced himself that it was for the good of France, and if the boy wasn’t up to the task, then he should not even be a Musketeer recruit. But of course since Richelieu had little regard for human feeling, his concern was not for the Gascon's welfare, but in his ability to succeed. And unfortunately, as Henri Odson had been exposed to each of the other Inseparables in the past, none of them would be able to approach the man stealthily enough to ensure success. 

Treville had provided enough information about the letter for D’Artagnan to quickly identify it if he got into the advantageous situation of rummaging through Henri’s personal belongings- the hue of the paper, how Richelieu referred to the assassination target as the ‘item’- so with any luck, if he saw the missive, he could be reasonably certain it was what they were looking for. Plus, the Cardinal had told Treville to expect the letter’s signature to be from a Louise De Metz, as common and nondescript a name as Richelieu could think of. Clever of him to use a female name, as to additionally lessen any patina of impropriety. 

Also weighing heavy on D’Artagnan’s mind was Athos. He was still reeling from the man’s cruelty to him the other night. Yes, he was drunk, but his father had once said that the things a drunk says often has the unfiltered ring of truth, revealing the way a man genuinely feels. If that were truly the case, then Athos’ words stung all the more.

Perhaps that was why D’Artagnan felt compelled, even enthusiastic, to take on this mission, even though failure might very well mean death. He would prove to Athos he was no ‘pretender’- far from it. He would change Athos’ low opinion of him, and prove his bravery and dedication to the Musketeers and the King, even if it quite literally killed him. As these dark thoughts circled around him, he unconsciously fondled the vial of _acqua toffana_ hanging around his neck, never far from being able to ingest it in case…

D’Artagnan then thought of Constance. He recalled her confusion regarding his cryptic comment that he should not be expected home for a time, going on a mission. For whom, or to do what, he did not say. The concern he read on her face tugged at him in ways he could not describe. 

But just thinking of her brought a smile to his face. In the midst of all of this, it was like a balm on his soul to think of her.

Would he ever see her again? 

Surprisingly, the only information Treville decided to impart upon the Inséparables was about Julien- instructions to ensure he left the Garrison, and to spread word to the other Musketeers that he is not to be allowed back for any reason. No amount of cajoling from any of them could get Treville to say anything more. This was particularly worrying, as it underlined how important this mission must be to succeed; but it also brought back the reality that D’Artagnan was out there, alone, to accomplish it.

After their dismissal from Treville’s office, all three Inséparables fidgeted nervously, saying nothing. Athos, in particular, seemed to be deep in his thoughts. No doubt how to rescue or help D’Artagnan out of this latest mess he found himself in.

Apparently not, as the first thing out of his mouth to Porthos and Aramis was, “How mean was I to D’Artagnan last night?”

Before Aramis could think of an honest way to speak of it but still spare Athos’ feelings, softening the harshness of the truth, Porthos quickly blurted out, “Very. Very mean.”

For Porthos wasn’t feeling as charitable as Aramis at the moment. It was one thing for a young, snot-nosed useless waste of flesh like Julien to have let D’Artagnan down. But for Athos to be so cruel to his newly acquired younger brother, especially now in light of him being left alone to fend for himself on a mission, was too much to bear.

“We had hoped to spare D’Artagnan any of your- jibes, but when we could not get you to leave the Tavern…you’ll make it up to him, Athos,” Aramis offered.

“That’s if I ever see him alive again.”

“Now, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Aramis said.

Athos replied, “He was sent on a mission almost certainly authored by the Cardinal, who, despite the fact that we just saved his _life,_ still would love nothing more than to tear the Musketeers apart. This may just be his way of starting to do just that. Picking us off one by one, all under the guise of performing our duties.”

“And how do we not ‘perform our duties’, when the order comes from the King himself? We’ll just have to trust that D’Artagnan has learned enough from us to keep himself safe.”

“I just wish I knew what Julien’s role in this mission was meant to be. Then perhaps we could figure out a way to fill that gap somehow,” Athos said.

“We don’t even know where the kid went, much less what ‘is ‘mission’ is,” Porthos responded, frustrated at the truth of it, and his helplessness in being able to do anything. Damn Treville for keeping his word to the Palace about staying tight-lipped.

Athos seemed deep in thought. Finally he spoke. “The irony is, if I had been successful last night, D’Artagnan would have taken my words- as cruel as they were- to heart. And he’d be far from the Garrison now, not on a dangerous mission, but back to Gascony where he would be happy and safe.”

Porthos, still unable to let go of his anger towards his brother, was having none of it. “Don’t you dare try to paint yourself as the hero here, Athos. An’ the pup would never have any of it anyway- an’ if you really think he’d be happy in Gascony instead of with us, means you must be insane. He belongs with us, and you know it. If anythin’, your words may have ensured he accept this mission as a way of provin’ you wrong.”

“How so?” Athos asked, suddenly curious.

Porthos sighed. “You really don’t remember las’ night, do ya? You called him a pretender, someone who’d never make a good Musketeer.”

Porthos waited for the recollection to sink in for his brother. Once it did, he continued, “So instead of pattin’ yourself on the back, consider that it’s what you said to ‘im last night that might be why he’s in danger now.”

Athos had the good grace to not try to deny his brother’s words.

Two and a half weeks later, D’Artagnan had reached Dax. D’Artagnan was ready for an Inn for a wash, a meal, and a warm bed, preferably in that order. His target was now almost in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: D'artagnan arrives in Dax, and the ruse is up almost immediately...


	5. Chapter 5

D’Artagnan only had a vague idea of what Henri Odson looked like, based on Treville’s description of him.

Had the Cardinal not procured an address for the mercenary, then even the King and Richelieu would have conceded that D’Artagnan would have no chance of success on the mission.

This would have been the time of the mission to covertly signal to Julien the location of where he would hide his first note for the young man, at a time predetermined before they parted company. No more need for all that.

D’Artagnan determined that a break-in of the mercenary’s home, mid-day since the probability would be that he would be absent, was the best first course. A search for the incriminating letter would follow.

Absent a successful procuring of the missive, then an elimination of the mercenary would be deemed necessary.

D’Artagnan was no assassin- amongst all of the swirling emotions he had around the mission, was if he could even do this.

But then Athos’ acidic words came back to haunt him. Yes, he could do this, if only to prove his worth in the eyes of his mentor.

However, an address wasn’t going to be easy to find- he could get near enough, but absent numbers on a dwelling, he would need to enquire as to the man’s home.

“Pardon me, monsieur,” D’Artagnan asked a passer-by. “Would you happen to know a Henri Odson?” 

"I know Henri,” the passing man responded.

D’Artagnan flashed the man a bright smile. “I’m his nephew and am visiting. Would you know which is his house?”

“I do. His is the last house on the left down that street. But he will be working now,” the man offered.

Hoping he wasn’t pressing his luck, D’Artagnan smiled and said, “My sincere thanks. You wouldn’t happen to know where he works, would you?”

Treville had told him that Richelieu had informed the Captain that Henri’s ‘respectable’ occupation was that of a blacksmith.

“Come, I am headed in that direction and can even introduce you if you wish.”

D’Artagnan froze. He tried to hide his terror at being formally introduced to someone not really his Uncle. Someone he may need to kill.

“I- My thanks, but first I wish to acquaint myself with his home, to commit it to memory, so that I can return to it later.” 

“No trouble at all. As it is, we pass his home on the way to his place of work. So you can take a look at its façade as we continue to his job.”

D’Artagnan would simply need to think quickly is it came to him being introduced to the man he might need to end. He could walk away, right now, making a petty excuse not to follow. But a sudden refusal would then be creating suspicion as to his motives, and who knew if this man would later tell Henri that he has a nephew looking for him or not?

“My thanks.”

_Think, D’Artagnan, think. How are you going to get out of this? What will you say once introduced to your target?_

Back at the Garrison, it was a long few weeks. 

“If only we could coax out of the Captain how long the mission was due to take. Then at least we could gauge whether we should be worried or not,” Aramis said. 

“Treville’s got too much of a poker face,” Porthos admitted. “I say we confront him again, just to try to get _somethin’_ out of ‘im. What’s the worst he could do to us? Yell?”

Absent a better idea, the three men climbed the Garrison stairs towards their Captain’s office.

“Gentlemen?” Treville asked, knowing all too well what they wanted, but still unwilling to make it easy on them.

“Is D’Artagnan late? Telling us would in no way be providing us mission details,” Athos said quickly.

Treville could answer honestly. Depending on the various ways D’Artagnan’s mission could play itself out, and the logistics of his round trip travel, he was not necessarily late.

“No. And you should consider yourselves fortunate that I decided to answer even that. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“So you’re not worried yet?” Aramis asked, as they began to shuffle towards the door.

“No. Not Yet.”

After arriving at the blacksmith shop, D’Artagnan found his legs feeling leaden, anticipating him meeting Henri Odson in a manner he never anticipated. He had to think quickly, as for any second now…

“Henri. Someone to see you.”

D’Artagnan saw the man he recognized from the Captain’s description.

D’Artagnan quickly said, “Uncle. It’s been a long time. Do you even recognize your nephew Charles?”

The Gascon then walked swiftly up to him, grabbed his hand into a shake, and pulled him into a close hug, all the time smiling. He whispered to Henri: “Nod and smile. Is there a place we can speak privately?”

Had Henri not been a mercenary, D’Artagnan’s greeting would have seemed so odd and out of the ordinary, that he would have blanched. But in his line of work, dealing with all sorts of intrigue, deception and misdirection, he picked up on this young man’s declaration, and went along.

_Clever,_ Henri thought. This stranger had just imparted enough information for the two of them to maintain the necessary fiction until they could be alone, away from prying eyes and ears. Whomever he was dealing with, it was not a rank amateur. This might actually be fun. 

“It’s been a long time, surely,” Henri replied. He saw no downside to playing along- for now.

Luckily for the two of them, the neighbor who had introduced the two of them had moved on, satisfied once he saw the two being reunited. And no one else was around.

D’Artagnan quickly whispered, “Richelieu sent me. All is forgiven. He has another mission for you but we cannot discuss it here. When will you be done with work?”

Henri smirked. “Oh, he’s _forgiven_ me, has he? That is hard to believe given-“

D’Artagnan cut him off. “Once you hear what the new mission is, you’ll see why he’s desperate to- he has no choice. Believe me, he would be loathe to admit it, but it’s good news as this can prove to be an extremely profitable endeavor for you.”

Henri seemed to be considering D’Artagnan’s words. Luckily for the Gascon, Henri never turned down a mission where coin would be involved.

“Come back here in three hours. Then we will both return to my home and have a discussion.”

Perfect. With Henri unaware that D’Artagnan already knew where he lived, it would give him time now to go there, ransack his home for the letter, and if found, he could be back on his way to Paris before Henri would even know of it.

Getting into Henri’s home was easy- Porthos’ lock picking training had paid off. As his tracking expertise was quite good as well, he had determined that Henri’s wife was not home at the moment.

Once inside, it became a furious task of assessing where the missive might be hidden. It took several minutes to establish the layout of the home; bedrooms, study, etc.

Soon a desk was found that contained papers. D’Artagnan hoped against hope that the letter from Richelieu might be easily available, not locked away somewhere. He realized that possibility would have a direct bearing on Henri’s belief that someone would not be as brazen to break into his home, secured in this remote section of Gascony, where no one would care of his desk’s contents.

Finally, after an intense few minutes, D’Artagnan recognized what might be a candidate for the letter. A quick search of the contents yielded spectacular results. All over the letter were the words ‘item’, and it was signed by none other than Louise De Metz.

Brilliant!

Until he heard a voice behind him: “Found what you were looking for, _nephew?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: D'artagnan grapples with dangerous mercenary Henri Odson. Is this my first deathfic???


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'Artagnan's fate is decided; and Athos risks insubordination with Treville.

Athos was by no means proud of himself that it had come to this, but as he was now beside himself worried about the fate of his younger brother, he found he couldn’t bring himself to care.

So spying on Treville and Richelieu was the last resort absent Treville opening up to him about the boy’s mission.

His stealth training put him in good stead- now it came down to seeing how much the two would discuss openly, not speaking in code.

In this spot of the Palace, voices tended to carry well. He listened intently, only grasping a few phrases together at a time.

Richelieu’s voice: “…and if the boy takes his own life…” _-what?_

Treville: “he’ll do…necessary…botched dealings…your precious _mercenary…”_

The Cardinal’s retort: “…his sacrifice…good of France…up to the job…if you…to babysit…Musketeers, then perhaps they…inadequate…good day, Captain.”

Reeling from what he had heard, Athos made his way back to the Garrison. Mission stealth be damned- he was going to confront Treville.

“I have, actually,” D’Artagnan replied to Henri, seeing no reason to lie, as the letter was in his hand, for him to see.

Henri was no fool- as soon as D’Artagnan had left his sight earlier, he followed him and stealthily watched him break into his home. He wasn’t a successful mercenary for nothing.

“So Richelieu simply wants you to obtain it. No further missions,” Henri spat.

D’Artagnan had to think quickly. “No, he wants the letter, but also to leave the door open for future dealings as well,” he lied.

“Nonsense,” Henri replied, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at D’Artagnan.

D’Artagnan used a misdirection move learned from Aramis, and he leapt onto Henri, sending him sprawling, his pistol falling and strewn across the room. 

While D’Artagnan may have thrown himself on top of Henri, Henri wasted no time in finding D’Artagnan’s throat, onto which he was already applying intense pressure. D’Artagnan’s eyes went wide with horror at the pain it was causing; he could also not breathe. At all.

D’Artagnan had a small dagger and pistol on him, his sword, at the moment, outside with his horse Zad. However as he needed both hands to continue to restrain Henri, neither weapon was available to reach. A second’s letup would give Henri the advantage. More than the advantage he already had.

Assuming Henri did not kill him outright, he did _not_ – could not- become this man’s prisoner.

Henri then managed to flip D’Artagnan over and now had the Gascon pinned underneath him.

A kick to Henri’s groin (thank you, Porthos) gave him about a second or two as Henri grunted and lessened his grip, but it wasn’t enough time to grab a weapon.

D’Artagnan managed to keep Henri from finding his throat again. But Henri began punching D’Artagnan mercilessly, landing several blows to the head and stomach. D’Artagnan continued to violently battle back, landing in some good shots of his own. However, more blows landed by the mercenary began to make D’Artagnan see stars. He was quickly losing this battle.

The dazed look on D’Artagnan’s face made Henri know it was an opportune time to end this. 

_Disable, bind, torture._ In that order. Unfortunately for Richelieu, France, and especially D’Artagnan, the mercenary’s mind went exactly where they had all feared it would.

The threat of a bullet, then getting the boy bound, would be followed by a sneak across the close-by border. With the right contacts in place, it would not be long before the boy, along with the letter he held, would be his meal ticket to a prosperous relationship with Spain- and disaster for his former partner in crime. 

But as loathe as Henri would be to admit it, the punches that his ‘nephew’ was landing were beginning to take their toll as well. Best to end this with a pistol to his head before the advantage shifts.

After a few more painfully effective blows to the Gascon, Henri caught a glimpse of his pistol, let D’Artagnan go, and lunged for it. 

With the little strength he had left, D’Artagnan leapt up and went to tackle Henri. The move caused Henri to launch forward and hit his head on the edge of a table, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

D’Artagnan, breathless, checked for a pulse. He was alive.

He caught his breath, wobbly managed to get to his uncertain feet, grabbed the missive, slowly exited the home, and as inconspicuously as possible, jumped onto Zad and got the hell out of there.

Athos confronted Treville as soon as he returned to his office.

“So D’Artagnan is on a- _suicide_ mission?”

“I thought I saw you wandering around the Palace,” Treville replied. He sensed Athos might have been following him. He did not just fall off the turnip truck.

Athos continued. “I’ll take whatever consequences there are for the manner in which I found out about this. But now that I know what I know, I’d like the courtesy of you filling in the blanks.”

“Oh, you would like me to extend you a courtesy, do you? As a reward for spying? That’s rich.”

“Captain. Please.”

Treville paused, and then began to tell Athos everything. Despite his anger at the man standing in front of him, he also knew he could trust him implicitly. Plus, his newly energized anger at Richelieu put him in a bit of a rebellious mood.

When Treville was finished, Athos, absorbing the information, said “So the suicide aspect of the mission would only need to be invoked had this- mercenary got the better of D’Artagnan, and captured him? And then he would need to take the poison only if he were headed to Spain?”

“Exactly. So you see, the likelihood of it getting to that point was remote enough that I almost believed it to be a non-issue.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Treville saw no upside in potentially worrying Athos more than necessary.

Having also explained Julien’s role in the mission, Athos said “So now we have no way of knowing of his fate? Is there an allowable amount of time that would need to pass before we could make our way to Dax?”

“Yes, and it has yet to pass. Athos, I appreciate your concern, but if you are to be a Captain one day, you must be able to live with the harsh reality of sending your men on missions from which you know they may not return.”

“Sending them on such missions would be understandable; sending them on such missions where they are merely pawns of the Cardinal’s is something else altogether.”

“And you think I would willingly do that to one of my men?” Treville challenged Athos.

“How hard did you try not to?” Athos countered.

“That is _way_ over the line, Athos. Is this rightful indignation over my allowing him to go on the mission, or perhaps can it be that you still have not been able to acknowledge that D’Artagnan is in training to become a Musketeer, and there will be times that he will not be within your grasp to protect? I’m well aware of your love for the boy, but danger comes with the role of being a Musketeer. Not to mention that it was also the King himself that also sanctioned this mission.”

“But he is not yet a Musketeer. This was not a mission that he should have been involved in.”

Treville’s patience was at an end. “Out of respect for you and your position amongst the other Musketeers, I’m going to stop you right there and order you to take your leave. If you wish to respond to what I have just said, give me the courtesy of a few hours, for you to consider my words, and for tempers to cool. Now go away.”

Athos sighed, nodded, and then left.

A little over three weeks passed. It seemed as if a cloud of despair grew over each of the Inséparables, and they grew darker and more ominous with each day that passed that did not bring their young brother through the Garrison gates.

Athos knew he had risked insubordination, or worse, from Treville by doing so, but he had filled Aramis and Porthos in on everything that he had spoken to Treville about. Their reactions included, but were not limited to rage, surprise, worry, and a feeling of helplessness.

Porthos, especially, seemed to take it hard.

“We’re just pawns,” he said, furious and frustrated. ‘’T’s always been that way.”

“We are soldiers; we follow orders, no matter where they lead. Always remember that,” Aramis replied, invoking his own words after the truth about the Savoy mission had come to light. “And the country cannot afford to have the soldiers themselves question the authority that guides them. Otherwise there would be chaos.”

“But that presumes we assume the ‘authority’ always acts with good intent,” Athos replied. 

“It is that presumption that is paramount,” Aramis said. “Us questioning that authority, or the wisdom behind their decisions, is where we get into trouble.”

No one said anything. Even if in their hearts as dedicated soldiers, they agreed with Aramis’ sentiment, for the moment they didn’t have to like it.

Not when the welfare of their youngest lie in the balance.

All they could do now was wait.

When Porthos, Aramis, and Athos all saw D’Artagnan enter the Garrison the very next day, all three of their hearts soared.

D’Artagnan’s warm but tired smile spoke volumes. His brother’s warm greetings were very much appreciated.

“How are you?” Aramis asked once D’Artagnan dismounted from Zad.

“I’m fine. I must see Treville.”

“How did everything go?” Athos asked.

None of them missed D’Artagnan’s blanch- he had come too far to now discard the need for stealth for this critical mission. However the bruises on his face told them that it did not go without some trouble. 

He merely repeated, “I must see Treville now. Is he in his office?”

“Yes,” Athos replied.

Suddenly D’Artagnan was reminded that he was not on good terms with his mentor. He avoided his gaze.

“Good ta see ya, pup.” Porthos said with a big smile, grabbing the boy into a huge hug.

“Good to be seen,” D’Artagnan smiled, content to offer that at least.

When D’Artagnan politely knocked on Treville’s office door, Treville said, ‘Come.”

When he saw D’Artagnan enter, in one piece, he was astonished at his depth of feeling to see one of his soldiers back, especially in light of the circumstances of this particular mission.

“Captain.”

“D’Artagnan. You are well?”

“I am well, Captain. I procured the letter. I knocked Henri out and fled successfully. He still lives.”

“That is fantastic news, D’Artagnan. Well done,” Treville responded with a smile.

D’Artagnan pulled out the missive. “I have been meaning to burn this ever since I left Dax. I give it to your care now.”

Treville read the letter. He proceeded to light a lantern and burned it. But he had an idea- one he need not share with D’Artagnan.

The Gascon then, upon prompting from Treville, began to relay the circumstances leading to him finding Henri Odson, breaking into his home, finding the letter, then fighting with and disabling the man. D’Artagnan made a point of giving his older brothers most of the credit- the wrestling moves that Porthos taught him when in the grasp of the enemy, keeping one’s cool under pressure, a lesson Athos had drilled into him time and again, and the finesse of a good lie, the proper execution of which Aramis had bestowed upon him.

As brash and cocky as this young man could be, Treville beamed with pride at his modesty in the recitation of his exemplary solo performance of such an important mission.

“Incredible, D’Artagnan. You should be very proud. France’s very existence may have hinged on your success. Now have Aramis tend to your injuries, and beyond that, your orders are to eat something, and to take a rest until further notice. 

“One more thing. While I did relay the details of your mission to Athos, and I suspect he may have passed them along to Aramis and Porthos at this point, you are still never to discuss this mission with anyone in the future, including your three brothers. The fact that they know of the mission, and that I alright with it, is a testament to their integrity, and my trust in them, that our secret is safe. However, no need to press it by having any further discussions on it. Understood?”

‘Of course. You have my word. Thank you, Captain. Um- Captain- I do have one question. Have you seen Julien?”

Treville grimaced. “D’Artagnan, when you took off on your mission, Julien was at a card table at the Wren. He has been summarily dismissed.”

D’Artagnan looked confused. “Playing cards?” Treville nodded.

“Oh. I see. Do you know where he is now?”

“D’Artagnan, by ‘summarily dismissed’, I mean he was banished from ever entering the Garrison again. He failed to follow a simple order, and left another Musketeer cadet alone when he was supposed to accompany him, and that is an unforgivable offense. As to his whereabouts, I neither know or care.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Upon his descent from the Garrison stairs, D’Artagnan was swarmed by his older brothers. He told Aramis, “I am under strict orders to have you look at my bruises, then eat and take a rest.”

“Then let us proceed,” Aramis smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: Treville and Richelieu discuss the aftermath of D'Artagnan's mission, and it's implications, and D'Artagnan and Athos' reconciliation goes terribly wrong, potentially with tragic results.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'artagnan and Athos' 'reconciliation' escalates horribly.

Back in Dax, Henri Odson woke to an incredible headache. He quickly recovered when awareness returned- he was alone, and his key missive was absent.

_That young bastard- I had him in my clutches_ , he thought, anger boiling deep in his belly. _I should have forgone my plan of torture and simply pummeled him to death. Or choked him until the life ebbed from his body- whichever was more- fulfilling._

He began throwing his own belongings about, no longer being able to contain his rage. 

It did not suffice.

Few things ever did, he had come to know that much about himself. His rage must be fed, and few things sated him like torture, and cold-blooded murder.

He continued to trash his home. His neighbor, Louis, popped in to see what the ruckus was all about.

“Henri, what is-“ 

Henri grabbed his neighbor by the head. 

_Now_ this _may suffice until I can get my hands around that boy._

Henri’s hands lowered around Louis’ throat. Louis’ face showed utter terror.

The man could not breathe. He fought back, but as his energy ebbed, he became putty in Henri’s powerful hands.

Henri was getting excited- aroused, perhaps- at the fright now evident in his annoying neighbor. 

He tried to imagine the face of the young man impersonating a nephew of his, in place of Louis’. It was enough to take his current kill to completion.

Once his neighbor slumped to the floor, dead, Henri decided, _no, that still wasn’t quite sufficient enough._

Treville’s visit with Richelieu was one of personal satisfaction. Not only was he able to report the safe return of ‘his man’, he stated that it was D’Artagnan who burned the letter before his return to Paris.

“And you are certain that he burned it? That the missive was the correct one?”

“Based on what D’Artagnan told me of the letter, we are reasonably certain it was he same letter.”

“Reasonably?”

‘It mentioned the ‘item’ and was signed by a Louise De Metz.”

‘That is it. And- D’Artagnan burned it?”

“That’s what he told me,” Treville lied.

“And- you believe him?”

“Implicitly.”

“But- Henri Odson still lives?”

“Yes, according to D’Artagnan. He disabled him and made his escape with the letter.”

Treville was thoroughly enjoying see the Cardinal squirm. He knew that he had to trust Treville and his Musketeer recruit, but as trust was never a concept the Cardinal either understood or found himself capable of demonstrating, he was uncomfortable. Treville, as a result, was delighted.

He asked the Cardinal, “So you believe that this Odson will no longer make good on his threat to collaborate with Spain with just his word about his dealings with you?”

“He might be able to convince Philip, given the details of each of their murders that he clearly would be able to provide, as they were killed by his own hands. However, Philip would then need irrefutable proof- more than the word of a deadly mercenary- to then accuse France of its collusion in the demise of men he knew he employed to spy on us. Our inevitable denial of any involvement in such plots would ensure his accusations would go nowhere, and Philip is savvy enough to know that. Besides, Philip is keen on keeping the peace at the moment. Nothing would be gained on pressing such accusations.” 

Richelieu then simply said, “Which means I believe our business is concluded for today. Good day, Captain.”

‘Good day, your eminence. And you’re welcome,” he could not resist adding.

“D’Artagnan. May I speak to you privately?” Athos asked.

The boy had just finished eating, and already was feeling weary. But as he was dreading confronting Athos, perhaps he wouldn’t be able to rest with this hovering over him. So he relented.

“Of course.”

Athos paused, and seemed to be trying to formulate the right response. “I’m struggling to explain my despicable behavior in the tavern that night without coming off sounding as if it is an excuse. Because there is no excuse for my words.

“I believe it mainly stems from me not only seeing you as my younger brother and mentee, but almost as a son. And fathers wish to protect their sons. I believe in my inebriated state, I equated pushing you away as a way of protecting you. Trying to convince you that you were a…” Athos almost choked on his words; sober, could he even repeat his claim as D’Artagnan as a pretender?

“…trying to describe you as a…less than capable Musketeer meant you possibly going back to Gascony, where you would be safe. Ridiculous, I know, but that was the drink talking. I honestly cannot even remember everything that I said…”

D’Artagnan certainly remembered every word. And he couldn’t help but recall how hurt he was by them at the time. Suddenly his anger flared- since Athos couldn’t recall his words, did that mean that he was expected to simply ignore them?

“You said I would never be a Musketeer, that I always showed up uninvited, and that I was a pretender,” D’Artagnan replied, suddenly hot.

_I said all that?_ Athos thought to himself. He recalled the ‘pretender’ bit, but the rest… 

“I- I was drunk…”

“Oh, so because you were _drunk,_ I’m a fool to have what you said hurt me, is that it? You get to say the most hurtful things and get away with it because an inebriated Athos is just up to his old drunken ways again? My father would never had gotten drunk and said such things to me.”

Athos was getting exasperated. Perhaps he expected a quick absolution from his younger brother, coming to him with such naked honesty about his transgression. Didn’t he realize what a big step it took for him to come to him, admitting his indiscretion, exposed? 

“D’Artagnan, what do you want me to say? I suppose I cannot compete with your _saint_ of a father, who apparently was perfect and never made a mistake, so perhaps I have wasted my breath attempting to apologize at all. I suspect your father moddy-coddled you too much, then, making you less amenable to criticism.”

“What- _what_ did you just say about my father? He was the _best_ man I’ve ever known! And YOU are a profoundly sad, pathetic, cold-hearted, drunken bastard who should throw himself on his own sword and do us all a favor and get it over with! I hate you!”

As D’Artagnan made to leave, Athos shouted at his back. “And _you_ accepted that mission just to prove that you are worthy, without for a second questioning the motivation behind it. You almost got yourself killed, a willing puppet to the Cardinal!” 

D’Artagnan turned back. “And _I_ was unaware that once I accepted the mission on TREVILLE’S order, there was also a requirement for me to be subject to you pointing your finger in judgment!”

Aramis and Porthos, not being able to ignore the argument anymore, slowly moved closer, clearly sensing an escalation. Things had gotten pretty hot at this point.

D’Artagnan then got in Athos’ face. “And you take back what you said about my father- otherwise prepare for a duel!!”

Porthos and Aramis were stunned. Athos would never say anything derogatory about D’Artagnan’s father; not sober, anyway, which he currently was.

And a _duel?_ This must be stopped, _now._

“Alright, everyone take a step back. What the _hell_ is going on?!” Aramis asked.

“Athos insulted the memory of my father, and he expects me to forgive him for what he said at the Wren. As if being drunk gives him license to offend my honor!”

Athos said, “And _you_ do not have the good grace to accept an apology when it is offered. If it is a duel that you wish, I would not deny you the satisfaction.”

Porthos and Aramis could not believe their ears.

“Ay, now wait a minute- there’ll be no duelin’,” Porthos said. “This is crazy.”

“Athos, D’Artagnan, obviously there has been some sort of misunderstanding, and this has clearly gotten out of hand-“ but as Aramis finished his thought, D’Artagnan launched himself at Athos.

Athos punched D’Artagnan in the stomach, hard, and the boy fell at his feet, gasping.

“Alright, _enough!”_ Aramis shouted, but he was ignored by a recovering D’Artagnan, already back and up on his feet, and lunging at Athos. Porthos grabbed him and held him back.

“NAME YOUR WEAPON!!!!!” D’Artagnan shouted at Athos, while being restrained by Porthos.

“Swords, of course,” Athos replied, as if it were the only obvious reaction.

Aramis’ and Porthos’ heads began to spin at how quickly this situation was spiraling out of control.

“Athos, have you taken leave of your senses?!” Aramis said. D’Artagnan didn’t stand a chance against the master swordsman in all of France.

‘Swords it is,” D’Artagnan replied calmly.

“When?” Athos asked D’Artagnan.

“ _Right now_!” D’Artagnan spat back.

“No, NOT right now!” Aramis screamed. “Tomorrow at noon, somewhere where an illegal duel will not get whomever wins in any legal trouble! Say, behind the Wren.” 

“Are ya _kiddin_ ’?” Porthos asked Aramis.

“Deferring gets us to talk some sense into our two insensible brothers. At the very least, it gives our young Gascon one more evening alive on this earth,” Aramis replied, out of D’Artagnan and Athos’ line of hearing.

D’Artagnan seemed to be considering the proposal. “I want satisfaction _now!”_ he growled.

Aramis had enough. “Well, that’s just _tough,_ my exasperating little brother! Now I don’t want to hear another word on the matter! So keen on getting yourself killed, suddenly?!”

“We’ll see who is left standing,” D’Artagnan huffed, walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME: The outcome of one Musketeer recruit's meeting with an Inseparable, and Henri Odson contemplates the slow, painful end of D'Artagnan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale- plus, Henri Odson dreams of D'Artagnan. And not in a good way.

Aramis swung his gaze to Athos, who was wearing a look that could only be described as confounded. Unlike D’Artagnan, he didn’t seem angry. In fact, he looked as if he could not believe it had come to this.

“He- just threw my apology back in my face, and I just… I didn’t know what else I could say,” Athos said.

“You let the kid vent his anger, and _take_ it, you idiot; otherwise how sincere could your apology ‘ave been?” Porthos said.

Athos saw the truth of Porthos’ assessment of the situation.

“Of course you’re right; he mentioned how his father would never have said the things I did, and I sarcastically called his father a saint. He took great offense.”

“Hmmm, I wonder why,” Aramis said. “Alright, let us let cooler heads prevail, and tomorrow you two will _talk, not_ duel, understood?”

Athos gave a weak nod. How the hell did this just happen?

Once he returned to the Bonacieux residence, both Jacques and Constance immediately noticed there was something profoundly sad about their boarder. D’Artagnan looked as if he just had his father die in his arms all over again. 

Constance instantly asked: “What happened?”

D’Artagnan seemed taken back by the question. He suddenly fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably. 

Constance shot her husband a glance. While Jacques didn’t particularly harbor any good will towards D’Artagnan, even he realized this was a moment in which he should not intrude.

Constance resisted the urge to grab the young man in a fierce embrace.

After another few moments, D’Artagnan pulled himself together. “Apologies, Madame…”

As he caught his breath, Constance showed the necessary patience before asking him to explain what had occurred to get him to this state.

“B-before I left on my mission, Athos said some things to me while inebriated. Just now he apologized for his hurtful words. I told him how angry and hurt I was, and he said something about my father that…

“Things escalated and- I am to duel with him tomorrow at noon.”

“WHAT?!??!? You cannot be serious!!!”

“He insulted my father, Constance; it’s a matter of honor!”

“Oh, _this_ again- honor always trumps common sense! So you are willing to lose your life, or the life of your friend, to uphold some code of honor?!”

D’artagnan threw her a mirthless smile. “I have no illusions of besting Athos. I- expect it will be me that will fall.”

Jacques held back a sardonic grin, not being able to help thinking, _then this may be my last chance to ask him for his past due rent._

“Wait- you said that Athos apologized. Why did he mention your father?”

“I mentioned that my father would never have said the hurtful things he said that night. He called my father a saint sarcastically…”

Constance’s head was spinning. She closed her eyes, shook her head and asked, “Wait. Did you or did you not say that Athos apologized? Did he or did he not?”

“He _did,_ he did, but then-“

“So you responded poorly to his apology, and he responded poorly to your comment about your father. It sounds as if both of you were a bit ungracious towards one another. Surely there is a way to get past it that does not involve muskets?”

“Swords.”

_“Swords!?!?_ Against _Athos!??!_ Are you mad?!”

“Quite possibly,” D’Artagnan replied, with not a small amount of terror suddenly in his eyes.

Ruminating on Constance’s comment about the fact that Athos did apologize, he began to wonder if he was indeed ungracious in his response. After all, Athos laid bare his true feelings for him; he suddenly recalled Athos comparing him to his own son, if he had one. 

_His own son._ And D’Artagnan threw his flesh and blood father in his face. He realized that Athos could have taken his words as if he were comparing him to Alexandre D’Artagnan and intimated that in the comparison, he had been found wanting.

He realized that Athos’ words came from misguided love, not any real feeling that he didn’t have it in him to be a good Musketeer. He began to realize that Athos did care for him, very much, as he did Athos. It was difficult to remain angry after that realization. Constance was right- he had been ungracious.

But how did this work? He didn’t think there was any turning back now. 

Despite their best intents, Porthos, Aramis and Athos tried to find D’Artagnan in the Garrison the next morning, before noon, and nowhere near the Wren, to underline the fact that Athos wished to _talk_ , not duel. However they could not find D’Artagnan anywhere.

They went to Treville; while they realized that doing so (asking if their Captain had seen the boy) could get D’Artagnan in trouble- what if he did not report to the Garrison and Treville needed him?

“Yes, D’Artagnan approached me early this morning. He asked if there was anything pressing, or if I truly needed for him to train today. The manner in which he asked led me to believe that I best dismiss him for the day and let the boy deal with- whatever it is that was so obviously troubling him.

“I’m assuming that you three know what’s going on with the boy?” Treville asked.

“We- had words yesterday and- I was looking for him to clear the air,” was all Athos would say. Admitting to a duel that he would ensure would never occur was something that Treville need not ever know about.

Treville nodded. “See that you do. He seemed- bereft. He thanked me for my patronage and had an air of, well, finality about him. I don’t know how to describe it better than that.”

_He doesn’t expect to survive the day_ , Athos thought. _He truly expects to salvage his honor by dueling with me, but is saddling up for the probability that his older brother, who loves him, will kill him._

Meeting him prior to the allotted duel time was not to be. D’Artagnan was a ghost prior to noon. The Inséparables had no choice but to meet him at the back of the Wren at the appointed time.

Athos made sure that he went to the Wren absent any weaponry at all- no sword, no musket, nothing. In this way, he wished to signal to his younger brother that there would be no duel today. 

As they arrived just before noon, all three Musketeers stood around, nervously pacing to and fro, in anticipation of their youngest’s arrival.

Suddenly, D’Artagnan arrived. The first thing his brothers noticed was a complete lack of rage, or anger of any kind; in its place was a tentative fear. It could also be described as contrite nervousness.

Athos suddenly astonished everyone, including D’Artagnan, by walking right in front of the boy by kneeling in front of him, bowing his head, and saying “D’Artagnan. I apologize for my unforgivable comment regarding your father yesterday. It was a cheap retort not worthy of you or the memory of your departed father. I would do anything to take it back.”

Athos paused, and then managed to muster the courage to look up.

What he saw was a momentary blur of movement. Then, suddenly, D’Artagnan had engulfed him in a tight embrace.

“I’m _sorry,_ Athos! You apologized and I ignored it! Can you ever forgive me?” He was sobbing now, as if all the events since the mission’s end came bubbling to the surface. And thanks to Constance’s wisdom, the boy was reminded of Athos’ confession, making him realize that he had a need to protect him.

Athos replied, “Forgiveness here is mine to ask of you. I should have taken your understandable rancor with more grace and humility. Please, D’Artagnan, never feel that it is I who owe you forgiveness.”

D’Artagnan smiled through his tears. He missed the smiles of relief that were shared between Porthos and Aramis.

After a brief pause, D’Artagnan tentatively asked Athos, “So- we do not need to duel?”

Porthos jumped in. “Oh, yeah, you _definitely_ dol! Ya think I’m gonna miss the duel of the century just because you two made up? What the ‘ell do you think I bothered to show up here for in the first place?! An’ who’s takin’ bets???”

“Shut up,” Athos said.

They all walked back to the Garrison together.

“Treville said he dismissed Julien,” D’Artagnan said.

“The Captain let ‘im off easy, you ask me,” Porthos said.

“I’ll miss him. He was funny and…I don’t know. I liked him. I’ll miss him,” D’Artagnan repeated, while wearing a fond smile.

“Miss a young man who let you down? Who abandoned his duty? Who left you exposed?” Athos shot back.

"It- it was fine,” D’Artagnan replied, but stopping short of supplying more details, remembering his vow to Treville.

“You are too quick to forgive, D’Artagnan. While I am grateful for your forgiveness of _me,_ willingly forsaking your brothers on a mission is an unforgivable offense. I am with Porthos regarding the justice in Julien’s punishment,” Athos replied.

D’Artagnan didn’t know what to say. “He was a friend. I enjoyed- I’ll still miss him, is all. He mentioned where he lived once- I believe I shall look him up.”

Aramis looked over at his young brother and smiled. D’Artagnan had a big heart and unlike Athos, he considered Julien’s gaffe a forgivable mistake rather than a breaking of a code from which he could never be exonerated.

Athos, however found himself choking down an angry response, fighting his urge to get the boy to see his point of view on the matter. Did he not know how angry his brothers were when they heard of Julien’s forgetting to accompany him? Did he not know how unworthy Julien was of his forgiveness, given his transgression? 

But two things prevented Athos from speaking: one was a sincere desire not to erode the truce they had both just made regarding his apology. The second was his reluctant acknowledgement of D’Artagnan’s capacity for love and acceptance. Suddenly, he found himself smiling as well at the boy’s good natured innocence. 

Suddenly D’Artagnan remarked, “Athos! I cannot believe I came _this_ close to killing you, what with my superior swordsmanship skills!”

Looking over at his three brothers, all now wearing smirks, D’Artagnan feigned ignorance and asked, “What’s so funny?”, disregarding the fact that he was also smiling.

“Oh, so the polite, conciliatory part of your day is already over?” Athos asked.

“I’m just saying, it would have been a shame for me to have ended your illustrious career as a Musketeer before you got too old and decided to quit.” 

“So, you bought him a few weeks, then,” Aramis said.

“Athos’ gain is our loss,” Porthos said.

“Having fun, are you?” Athos asked.

And it was afterwards that D’Artagnan understood that brothers can also hurt one another with words, as family is wont to do occasionally. But what makes them family is the capacity to forgive, and to realize that there is no bond stronger than the ones between him and his newly adopted brothers. For even though he has not known these men for very long, this episode between Athos and he proved that the bond was unbreakable. 

_Epilogue_

Back in Dax, Henri Odson knew he had to return to Paris one day. After he got certain in- motion plans complete- he did have another ‘job’ lined up, after all, which might take weeks, even months, to complete. 

Once that would be complete, he had no real plan. He did not know if this young bastard thief was a Red Guard, a Musketeer, or someone hired privately by the Cardinal.

He did not care. He kept remembering the boy’s deception, how he got the better of him, how he stole his meal ticket, and…how he had not tortured anyone in quite some time. He hoped his latest upcoming ‘mission’ would afford him that pleasure, but there was no certainty of that yet. He might be able to successfully complete it, and collect coin, without needing to do so. That would be a pity.

He could never seem to adequately define the feeling he always had when long bouts of time occurred between his- torture sessions with someone. They filled an animalistic urge that needed to be fed. And the urge was sated, the itch more satisfactorily scratched, when the subject was one for whom he had a particularly hot hatred for.

This pretty boy, this young bastard, fit the bill. He knew he would not be able to function until he was flayed alive. And for no other reason than he needed his revenge. 

One way or the other, he would find him, capture him, torture him, and the moment he began to beg for mercy, he would kill him.

The thought aroused him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue to this surprised me as much as anyone- as I have no current plans of writing a sequel to this, on the other hand I somehow seemed to not be quite done with my OC Henri Odson. I can foresee vague ideas around him returning to confront Richelieu, and of course killing D'Artagnan, which can lead to three overprotective older brothers, especially once they discover that the man is a sociopath, clearly a type that D'Artagnan has never been exposed to before. So perhaps if anyone feels this should continue at some point, say so in the Comments? And a big THANK YOU to all who commented and left Kudos! Till next time.


End file.
